


With My Own Eyes

by afteriwake



Series: Stuff Of Improbable Legends [41]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Teen Wolf (TV), The Scarlet Pimpernel - All Media Types
Genre: Allison-centric, Armand Cooks, Caring Allison, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Crushes, F/M, Friendship, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, One-Sided Attraction, POV Allison, POV Allison Argent, Past Lydia Martin/Armand St. Just, Roleplay Logs, Roommates, Sad Armand, Sad Backstory, Scars, Secret Crush, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While giving Armand a cooking lesson there's a tiny accident and Armand has to take off his shirt, giving Allison a full glimpse of the scars that the Marquis de St. Cyr had given him, scars she had only read about before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With My Own Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sideofrawr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sideofrawr/gifts).



> So I had a ton of other fic planned to write but it came up in conversation today with **sideofrawr** that Armand has a ton of scars on his back from the whipping that the Marquis de St. Cyr gave him that nearly killed him and she wanted Allison to bring it up and I just got _really_ inspired to write this, especially since we decided that yup, we're going to hook them up eventually (much more slowly than we have our other couples). And while I don't think it's been mentioned before, Armand and Martin are roommates in the same apartment, hence his sudden arrival being not a super weird thing for either Armand or Allison. So please, enjoy!

She wasn’t sure what she felt towards Armand, not entirely. She liked him as a friend, of that much she was quite sure. But there was more to it than that. She was attracted to him, she thought. Maybe. It just seemed to be a crush, nothing more than that, but if anything were to happen she wasn’t sure she would mind. But she just didn’t know if he was interested or not. For a man she knew had quite the romantic streak, she had no idea whether he had romantic feelings for her.

It was not a fun position to be in.

But at least she could be friends with him. She was thankful for that. She enjoyed his company, and when she was around him she smiled more, laughed more. He made her feel better and she was happy about that because after everything it was nice to feel there was good in the world again. And whether they just stayed friends or it became anything more, it was nice to have that.

They had decided a little while ago to trade lessons for lessons. He would give her fencing lessons in exchange for her to give him cooking lessons. She had to admit, he was doing better with the cooking lessons than she was with the fencing lessons, but then, he had an unfair advantage since he had already had some and she was starting from the very beginning. But for both sets of lessons, she was enjoying herself immensely so it was worth it.

Today was a cooking lesson, and they were going to make spaghetti. They had most of the sauce set up and were just browning the meat now. It was going to be a mixture of hamburger and baked mini meatballs. She couldn’t find the lean hamburger she had wanted so she was just going to drain the meat when Armand was done browning it, then use the fat to brown the meatballs a little after they were baked. He had been doing quite a good job assembling everything else so far and wasn’t having any problems with this.

She’d gone to check the water for the pasta when she stumbled and knocked into him. He accidentally knocked into the saucepan and the grease splattered with some of it landing on his T-shirt. He pulled his T-shirt away from his skin, his eyes wide, and then she reached over for the hem and pulled the shirt off quickly, trying to get it off before the hot liquid scalded his skin. He tossed it over to the side and looked down at his abdomen and on his waist. “Do I have any burns?” he asked.

She moved closer to him. “No, not that I can see,” she said. She placed her hand on his back, and then her eyes widened. She could feel them, faintly, under her fingertips. The scars. She had read all about Armand, long ago, even if _this_ version of Armand came from the musical. She knew that his back was going to be covered with scars from his whipping, the whipping that nearly killed him.

The whipping that had set the events of it all in motion.

She could feel him tense as her fingers brushed the skin of his back. “I should put a shirt back on,” he said, turning red at the cheeks.

“I…know about the whipping,” she said quietly. “I read the book. And I’ve seen a bootleg of the musical. So I know _your_ history. It’s…strange. I know why you have these scars, but…”

He was quiet for a moment, then turned so that his back was facing her more. Her eyes widened when she saw the countless faded red marks slashed across his back. “There are more,” he said quietly. “Across my backside and the backs of my legs. But it was worse on my back.”

She reached out hesitantly and traced one of the marks. “How long had it been between when it happened and when you came to this time?”

“Two years,” he said. “Considering it was the late 1700s, I was lucky to survive. But my wounds are still very ugly. They are still quite red and angry looking, even if they are healed. I know in this day and age, with the money I have, I could have plastic surgery, but…”

“Is it worth it?” she asked.

“I do not know,” he admitted. “I have accepted them, myself. I had thought…” He lapsed into silence for a moment. “In Lawrence, I had thought perhaps Lydia might accept them, but that was not to be.”

She felt a surge of anger at that. She cared for Lydia, she did, but the actions of the Lydia who had been in Lawrence prior to her arrival there pissed her off to no end. How could she have hurt Armand the way she did? He was such a good, kind person, and she had gone off and started seeing Stiles behind his back and then broken up with him on the boards and that was so _selfish_ and he deserved better.

She reined in her anger. She also reined in another urge, one that _really_ surprised her: she wanted to press a kiss to each of the scars and show him that she wouldn’t care about them at all, not in the slightest.

Where had _that_ come from?

“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” she said quietly. She was starting to gather her thoughts when the front door of the apartment opened and both of their heads whipped towards it. Martin walked in, took one look at the scene, and gave them a bit of a bashful smile. Allison bit back a bit of a groan. She hadn’t needed anyone walking in and getting the wrong idea. “Hello, Martin.”

He nodded, giving them both a wave. “Hello. Cooking lesson gone awry?”

Armand frowned. “How did you guess?”

“Something’s burning,” Martin said, gesturing to the stove.

Allison and Armand’s eyes widened. “The sauce!” they chorused. 

Armand pulled away from her and went over to the stove, pulling the spaghetti sauce off the burner. He stirred at it with the spoon and then frowned. “I suppose we need to toss it out,” he said with a sigh.

“You could always just toss out the burnt bits,” Martin suggested.

Allison shook her head. “It ruins the whole sauce. Don’t worry. I can run to the market and get more ingredients. Are you going to stay here for supper, Martin?”

Martin shook his head. “Rey and I are flying Finn to Miami for a quick jaunt because he wants to go to a nice beach, and we’re going to pick up some cargo while we’re at it to bring back. We’ll be back in a few days. I was just stopping by to pick up a few changes of clothes. You two get to enjoy a nice meal without me.”

“That’s a shame,” Armand said. “I enjoy your company.”

“I do too,” Allison said with a smile.

“Well, perhaps if your culinary skills are up to it, you can cook something at Finn, Poe and Rey’s home when we get back?” Martin asked. “I know they would like a homemade meal, and I like the food you make. I’m sure they would too. And Allison, I doubt they’d mind you there.”

“Well, I’d like that,” Allison said with a smile. “It’d be like a dinner party. And I can help you cook, Armand.”

“That sounds like a very good idea,” Armand said with a nod. “Let me go put on another shirt. We don’t want to take up anymore of your time, Martin, as it is precious.”

“And I need to head back to the market,” Allison said. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“I’ll be waiting,” Armand said with a smile. Allison grinned back and moved over to Martin, giving him a grin before moving past him and out the door. Once she was outside her smile dimmed slightly and she took a deep breath. Oh, she needed to get a grip on herself, she thought to herself. If she had a crush she needed to rein it in because she had no idea if he felt the same or if he was hung up on Lydia still or…any of it. It was all so complicated and a mess and…argh. This was just _not_ what she needed.


End file.
